


A Thousand Verses to Your Mouth

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Missing Scene, Season/Series 04, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 10:18:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7098706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Ursula reunites with her father and Killian reveals his fears about his happy ending, Emma and Killian manage to get some time alone on his ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Thousand Verses to Your Mouth

**Author's Note:**

> I can’t help noticing that in “Poor Unfortunate Souls” (4x16), the scene with Ursula and Poseidon and “Don’t you know, Emma, it’s you” in Gold’s cabin is in the daytime, and the next time we see Killian (with Ursula and Poseidon) he’s on the docks and it’s night. Seemed right and proper to fill that time in with something. Beta by j-philly-b.

“Don’t you know, Emma?” he asked her, the emotion evident in his voice ( _and she did, she did know, but a part of her couldn’t believe it and had to ask_ ). “It’s you.”

He said it so simply, no swagger, no ulterior motive, just a simple confession that she was his happy ending. It was like he just _knew_ it, the way you know that water is wet and the sky is blue. She wasn’t sure anyone in her life had ever loved her like this, and she could no longer deny that love is what this was. _Love_ was a word he threw around all the time: _It’s like I said, love_ , and _Aye, love_ and _Are you okay, love_ —it was a word he used with most of the women she’d seen him interact with, just a part of his speech pattern. But then recently it was more; he’d told her that he loved her—once in parting words as they went their separate ways after an evening together, and once in a murmur in her ear while he was inside her. She’d yet to say it back.

She knew she should say something back now, but the words dammed up in her throat ( _I love you, you’re my happy ending too, no one has ever made me feel the way you do_ ). She couldn’t say it, but she felt it, a swell in her chest and a drop of her stomach and the top of her head ready to float off into the stratosphere. Unable to speak her feelings as her eyes filled with tears, barely able to breathe, Emma tried to communicate nonverbally. Leaning into Killian and closing her eyes, she felt their noses bump together softly before their lips met. It was perfection, the way her top lip fit between his two, the way he seemed to sip at her before opening his mouth wider, both of them gently swaying to inaudible music. The tears that had filled her eyes slid down her cheeks as she tried to put all of her feelings into that kiss. 

Emma wrapped her arms around Killian and clung to him, his solid, warm presence anchoring her to the ground. The leather of his coat resisted her grasping hands, and she longed for the smooth skin of his bare back. The kiss shifted, becoming deeper, harder, more desperate: wet, almost obscene noises of their mouths meeting over and over, shifting apart and then together again. She let one hand slide down to his jeans, gripping his ass and rutting against him. All of the emotions from a moment ago were like kerosene thrown on the flames of her desire. 

Killian broke the kiss with a smack. “We probably shouldn’t do this here, Swan,” he whispered, but his own roaming hand belied the statement, slipping under her coat and sweater to press against the skin of her waist, encouraging the movements she was making with her hips against his.

Emma blinked at their surroundings and laughed. “Gold’s cabin, right.” She disengaged from him, backing up a step, letting air and a little common sense come between their bodies. “We definitely shouldn’t do this here.” She felt her phone buzz in her pocket, took it out, and glanced at it. “Mom and Dad are taking August back in the pick-up truck.” 

Killian’s expression shifted, his eyes widening. “What?” Emma asked.

The first hint of a smile appeared on his face. “My ship,” he drawled, closing the space between them again, “is in the harbor.”

“Yeah, you told me.”

Killian sank his hand into her hair as his other arm wrapped around her and pulled her close against him. “My ship, which is completely empty, and has a small but very serviceable bed in the captain’s quarters, is in the harbor.” He punctuated this statement with a lurid thrust of his hips, and Emma tried to keep her eyes from rolling back in her head at the friction. “Away from your parents,” he added, “and Henry, and tiny babies—”

“And Granny.”

“Aye, and Granny.” More kisses punctuated each realization that they could be more alone on the _Jolly Roger_ than anywhere they usually attempted to be together without prying eyes. 

Emma turned toward the door, grabbing his hook and starting to pull him along. “Let’s go, then.”

Killian stayed rooted to floor. “Give me a moment, Swan.” He reached down and adjusted the front of jeans, where he still had a rather visible erection, making Emma laugh. 

“I don't know how you walk around with that thing,” she deadpanned, vaguely aware that she was quoting something.

“Make fun all you like, I don’t think you’ll begrudge me this aspect of my anatomy later.” Bending his knees and shifting the crotch of his jeans a bit, Killian finally moved toward the door with her as Emma rolled her eyes and grinned.

The walk back into town was a blur of determined movement through the forest, with only one brief halt, her spine pressed to a tree, head thrown back against the rough bark as his mouth found the spot on her neck that was always her undoing. When she was finally able to push him away with a reminder that the sooner they got to the harbor, the sooner he could have her, Killian grabbed her hand and resumed their rapid march back to town.

“My car is at Granny’s,” Emma said, slightly out of breath as they got closer. “Might be faster if we go there and drive the rest of the way.”

“And what do you think the odds are that we can get into your car in the middle of town without someone noticing us and asking us to do something?” Killian pointed out. “Or even if we manage that, the odds that someone won’t see your car by the docks and come looking for us on my ship?”

“Good point.”

“This way,” he said, diverting them from the road that became main street and onto a side street. Lacing his fingers with hers, they broke into a laughing run, their attempt at sneaking around amusing and exhilarating in equal measure. 

They didn’t stop running until they crossed the gangplank and Emma collapsed into Killian on the deck of his ship, still laughing, gasping for breath. She looked around at the furled sails and masts and ropes, letting herself be held almost too tight in the vice grip of his muscled arms. “You really got her back,” she said.

“Even if I’d never laid eyes on her again, it would have been worth it.” Killian replied, his mirth replaced by something more tender. “ _You_ would have been worth it.” He reached up and brushed her hair away from where it clung to her face, strands damp from the misty weather and her own sweat.

Emma swayed close, catching his lips in a kiss. He opened his mouth readily to her (always had), and the wet slide of her tongue against his was no less thrilling for being familiar. She reluctantly pulled away after several blissful seconds, aware that they were in full view of anyone on the docks who happened to look their way. “We should get below before we add fuel to the Storybrooke gossip machine.”

“Pretty sure that cat’s out of the bag, love.” He kissed her again.

It was true that it was almost impossible to sneak out of his rented room at Granny’s early enough to avoid running into someone on her walk of shame back to the loft. She let the kiss get sloppier, her nose pressing against his cheek as she angled her head more. Her hands found their way to the back of his head, her nails scratching through the short hair at the nape of his neck.

“You really like kissing,” she finally murmured against his lips.

“Most people do, in my experience.”

Emma leaned back enough to focus on his face. “Yeah, but you _really_ like kissing.”

He chuckled. “When it comes to you, Swan, I like everything.”

“Sweet talker.”

“Would you join me below decks, my lady?” he asked, his raised eyebrow and kiss-bruised lips adding to the innuendo in his voice to make this seem like the most sinful request she’d ever heard. Emma bit her lip and nodded, taking his hook and letting herself be led over to the ladder that descended directly to the captain’s quarters. With a sweep of his hand, Killian indicated that she should precede him below.

As soon as he had joined her at the bottom of the ladder, she noted his furrowed brow. “What’s wrong?”

He looked around the room. “Just the thought that Blackbeard was here sort of casts a pall.” Killian stalked over to his bed and with a sharp tug, pulled all of the bedclothes off and threw them to the floor, pillows scattering. “There should be more linens here.” He squatted down and opened one of the cupboards below the bed, pulling out clean sheets.

“Here, let me help you.” She took the bedding from his hand, and together they made quick work of remaking the bed, although Emma had to admit that even with one hand, he was probably better at making a bed than she was: one more thing to add to the list of skills he’d picked up in the Royal Navy.

Sitting down, Emma patted the thin mattress. “You weren’t wrong about this bed being small.”

Killian sat next to her, thigh pressed to hers. “Aye, but it will still suit our purposes.” He leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek, then began working his way toward her jaw, his hand threading into her hair and tilting her head so that he had easier access to her neck. 

“And that purpose is a rousing game of chess, I assume?” she joked.

She felt him smile. “If you like.” His kisses were more open-mouthed now, leaving a wet trail down her throat. “But I’m going to fuck you first if that’s all right with you.”

Emma laughed, pushing him away so that she could shrug off her gray coat. She tossed it onto a nearby chair and shivered slightly. “This ship could benefit from some central heating,” she said, rubbing her hands together.

Killian kissed her again, single-minded in his pursuit. “I’ll keep you warm, Swan.”

Emma groaned. “You’re so cheesy.”

“Is that good or bad?”

She didn’t answer him, just kissed him back, reaching down to untuck his shirt so that she could slip her cold hands underneath and warm them against his bare skin. When he gasped at the touch, she deepened the kiss, letting her tongue slide into his mouth. 

“It’s because of your mouth,” he said when she stopped kissing to begin working on the buttons of his vest. 

“What is?”

“Why I, as you said, really like kissing.”

Emma raised her eyebrows. “What about my mouth?” she asked as she pushed his coat and vest off his shoulders and went to work on his shirt buttons.

He halted her forward progress in getting him undressed by kissing her again, his tongue deep in her mouth before she could quite get her bearings, his hand cupping the side of her face. And then just as suddenly, he pulled away.

Killian’s thumb brushed over her lips, pulling down on the lower one in a way that made her heartbeat accelerate. “I’ll never get enough of it. Your soft lips, and the things you do with your tongue, and the way you taste …” He closed his eyes and licked his own lips. “If I were a poet, I would compose a thousand verses to your mouth, each more indecent than the last.”

“A thousand, hmm?” she responded, her light tone at odds with the way she had felt his words all the way down in her knees.

“At least.”

Emma decided she was definitely ready to move things along and was done with having clothes on, cold or not. She reached down and pulled her boots and socks off, then whipped her cable-knit sweater off over her head, her long hair a riot of tangles and flyaway wisps. Standing up, she pulled her leggings down and kicked them off, then dove for the bed and crawled under the covers quickly, shivering. 

Killian watched her, amused. “So much for slowly removing your clothes while I worship your form.”

“Get under the blankets with me and you can worship whatever you like.”

He followed suit, pulling off shoes and socks before standing and dropping his pants and underwear. Unbuckling the brace for his hook with practiced ease, he set it aside on the shelf next to the bed, then pulled his already-unbuttoned shirt off. He stood before her, unashamed and very naked, and she couldn’t resist staring at his body.

Emma lifted the covers in invitation, scooting toward the wall as he climbed in with her. “We’re going to need to switch sides, love.” He wasn’t afraid to let her see his handless wrist anymore, but he still flushed as he indicated it now. “This will go more enjoyably if I have my hand free.”

Emma pushed on his left shoulder as she hooked her leg over his hip, and Killian willingly gave in to her unspoken command, relaxing onto his back to let her climb on top of him. His eyes, full of trust, held hers. She leaned over and pulled his lower lip between her own and sucked on it, grazing it with her teeth and making him moan. Killian reached behind her back and unfastened her bra, and Emma sat up and let the straps slide off her arms before she flung the undergarment aside.

Pressing on her back with his hand, Killian angled her down so that he could reach her breasts with his mouth. His lips closed around one nipple and he gave a sharp suck, hard enough to be on the edge of painful. Emma’s hips jerked, and in the back of her mind she took a second to appreciate how he’d seemed to learn so quickly exactly what she liked: exactly how hard and exactly where the line between pleasure and pain was for her. She looked down and met his eyes, watched him watching her as his mouth moved over her breast, as his hips rutted against her. His cock was right there, grinding against her clit on every stroke, and Emma was tempted to just move her underwear to the side and let him fuck her. Take him inside in one quick stroke and ride him until they both came, fast and hard and perfect.

Before she could act on that impulse, she thought about what Killian had said about her mouth. With a grin, Emma pulled away and inched down his body, stopping to suck a wet kiss on his abdomen. 

“You’re salty,” she commented, adjusting the blankets on her shoulders to keep out the chill.

“From my unplanned swim in the harbor, courtesy of Ursula.”

Emma hummed in response, continuing to suck at his skin. She shifted down lower, one knee on the outside of his thigh and the other between his legs. Regarding his erection for a moment, she brought her hand up to grasp it at the base before unceremoniously taking it into her mouth. Killian moaned gratifyingly, and she felt his hand come up to rest gently on the back of her head. 

“Fuck, you're a bloody marvel, Swan,” he groaned as she worked him with gentle movements of her tongue: soft licks designed to tease, not the pressure and suction she would use if she planned to finish him off this way. “Your tongue is a most exquisite torture.”

Emma pulled off of him with a wet pop and looked up. “Is that one of the poems you're composing about my mouth?” she asked, grinning.

“Indeed.” He beckoned to her. “Come here.” 

Killian rolled onto his side, shifting over against the wall of the ship and guiding her down so that they were lying side-by-side again. “I could fuck you right now, couldn’t I?” he asked. His hand pulled at the waistband of her underwear, and Emma reached down to help him get them off. Killian moved his hand between her legs, fingers slipping against her. “Yes I could, you’re so wet, Swan. I could just slide inside you so easily right now.” Emma could only let go of a breathy moan in response to that, especially when his fingers shifted and pushed up inside her suddenly. “Is that what you want, love?”

Emma became aware that his hand had stilled, that he was waiting for an answer. “Yes.”

“Yes, what?” His nose was against the side of her face, his breath hot on her cheek. The chill of the ship was quickly being chased away by the warmth they were generating under the blankets.

“Yes, I want you to fuck me,” she said, wincing a little. Dirty talk didn’t come naturally to her the way it obviously did to him.

That seemed to be good enough for Killian, and she moaned as his fingers resumed moving in and out of her, the palm of his hand pressing against her clit. “I could live and die a thousand lifetimes between your thighs,” he sighed, and it would have been a ridiculous statement if he weren’t so unbearably sexy, his mouth parted, chest heaving, hard cock pressed against her hip.

“So are you?” she said.

“What?”

Emma turned and gave him a sloppy kiss, at the same time reaching down and closing her fist around his cock, giving him a couple of hard strokes. She reveled in the fact that maybe she had a tiny bit of the upper hand for once, and maybe she could say something that would leave him dumbstruck, rather than the other way around. “Are you gonna fuck me like I told you?”

With a growl he was on top of her, lining himself up, and Emma angled her hips to take him, take all of him. He slid inside her easily, just as he’d said, filling her and stretching her and making her cry out at how good it felt to have him there. She hitched one leg up on his hip, grabbing his ass and encouraging him to move with an undulation of her own hips, but she could tell he was resisting her.

“Slow down, Swan,” he said, rocking his pelvis to seat it more firmly against hers, burying his cock inside her as deeply as he could, but otherwise staying relatively still. He flashed her a maddening smile. “We’re in no rush.” After she relaxed, he rewarded her by pulling out, very slowly, before sinking back inside her again. 

She wasn’t used to enjoying it slow. So often, sex for Emma had been something to accomplish and be done with, a box checked on the list of successful hook-up activities. Not that she didn’t enjoy herself; she’d known what it took to get herself off for a long time, and she wasn’t afraid to advocate for her own pleasure, to ask for what she needed. But she liked it fast and hard, and that usually also meant quick. She liked it fast and hard with Killian too, but being with him, she was learning to appreciate slowing down: tiny movements, each one nudging them a hair’s width closer to completion, an infinitesimal half of a half of a half that made it feel like sex could go on forever.

The way his eyes stared into hers made her feel exposed, much more exposed than the intimate act of their bodies made her feel, as if all her thoughts and emotions were his to thumb through like the pages of a story book. She had so much love in her life now, more than she ever would have dreamed possible and it was wonderful, but sometimes it was more than she could handle. Emma closed her eyes, shielding herself from the raw emotion in Killian’s, and focused on the physical. She slid her hand down between their bodies, fingers pressing against her clit in an effort to bring herself to orgasm.

With a grunt, Killian shifted up more onto his knees, putting some distance between her chest and his and giving her more space to touch. Emma let her hand slide further down to the base of his cock where it entered her, touching herself and him in equal measure, feeling the way her body gave way to admit him. Everything of her was soft and wet to his hard, unyielding invasion. Every thrust from him pushed her hand against her clit and then she was gasping, her other hand gripping his thigh.

“That’s it, Emma.” His voice was gravely, the sound of her first name on his lips a benediction. “Just like that, love.” Emma let herself cry out as she got close, because for once no one could hear her, for once she could just completely let go and let all the feeling pour out of her in nonsense sounds, sounds that meant _I love you_ and _never leave me_. She opened her eyes at the last second as her orgasm crested over, saw him carefully watching her as he always did. 

As her awareness recrystallized, Killian collapsed onto his forearms again, pursuing his own climax. Emma lifted her hand, still wet from her body, and rested it against Killian’s lips. He pulled her middle finger into his mouth eagerly, sucking, his tongue caressing the sensitive whorls of her fingertip. All semblance of his control was gone in an instant. She wrapped her legs around him, heels against his back, letting him rut into her with abandon. There had been times when he kept the litany of language going while he fucked her, but he had been relatively quiet this time, and now the only sounds were the beautifully pained moans he made as he captured that physical release. Emma clung to him, letting him ride through it until he stilled, a satisfying weight on her.

There wasn’t much room to separate from each other after, and when Killian had moved off of her and tucked himself back against the wall, she rolled and let him pull her flush with his chest, her back to his front. She closed her eyes and catalogued the gentle rock of the ship in its moorings, the kisses he pressed to her hair, the brush of his chest hair against her back, his softening cock against her ass. She didn’t consider herself a cuddler, but she had to admit that being held this way felt wonderful.

“Don’t let me fall asleep, I need to go make sure August is okay,” she said.

“So eager to run away from me, Swan?” he teased, squeezing her tighter.

She realized she really wasn’t. “No,” she said, giving him a gentle pinch on the arm. “I just can’t afford to go to sleep right now with so much going on.” She turned over to look him in the eye. “Besides, I’m not sure we could sleep together a whole night in this tiny bed, I’d probably end up elbowing you in the face.”

“Any minor discomfort would be worth it to share a bed with you in sleep, my love,” he said with an easy smile. His look said more, hinting at a future where maybe sharing a bed together at the end of the day was a regular occurrence, and she was struck once again at how much he was able to convey with his eyes. 

Emma wanted to ask him how he knew, how he could be so confident that she was his happy ending, but she was afraid of what such a question would prompt him to admit. Although what more could he say that he hadn't already? Saying she was his happy ending was the same as saying that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. And that was terrifying, because she was starting to imagine a future in which that was a possibility. More and more she was beginning to see it in her mind’s eye, their future together. 

Breaking the spell, Emma stood up and began to dress quickly, the chill air shocking after the warmth of Killian’s bed. After a few moments watching her, he stood up with a reluctant groan and began to do the same.

“Will I see you later?” he asked.

Emma shrugged, her mind already on the evening’s tasks. “Like I said, I need to check on August, see what Henry is up to and make sure he ate dinner, grab a shower, and I should probably stop by the Sheriff’s station to—”

“All right, Swan, say no more,” he interrupted, holding up a hand to stop her list. “Breakfast then?”

Emma let out a breath and leaned up to give him a peck on the lips. “Yeah. That sounds good. Sorry, I just—”

“You don’t need to be sorry.” He took her hand and threaded their fingers together, then brought it up to his lips to kiss it. “Quiet moments, remember? We’ll find them where we can.”

Emma sighed, aware that she was definitely, properly, all-the-way in love with him, and knowing that she should probably tell him that. “Yeah. I promise we’ll find another one soon.”


End file.
